


Better Than Nothing

by Haberdasher



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Communication, Episode: e191 What We Lose (The Magnus Archives), Gen, Metaphors, Minor Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, POV Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Parallels, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haberdasher/pseuds/Haberdasher
Summary: In the tunnels, Martin talks with Jon, drawing parallels between his past and present.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Better Than Nothing

“Jon?”

Jon sat up, pushing his back up against the wall of the tunnels as Martin approached, an unlabeled tin of food in his hands. “Here.”

“Good.” Martin’s footsteps quickened until he was by Jon’s side. “I brought you a little something.”

Jon still didn’t feel all that hungry, but once Martin passed him the tin it didn’t take him long to open it; perhaps because the action felt routine and almost normal, perhaps because opening one of the mystery tins still meant solving some mystery in the world, however small.

The smell of preserved fish was unmistakable; Martin made a bit of a face right after Jon opened the tin, and the look was amusing enough that Jon had to stifle a laugh.

“Sardines are... certainly better than nothing. Thank you, Martin.”

Martin wrinkled his nose at the fishy smell. “Wouldn’t be _my_ choice, but-”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Martin took a seat next to Jon as he scrabbled around with his hand in the tin, trying to grab one individual sardine out of it. “Still better than what I got up there, at least.”

“Which was?”

“A can of peaches.”

Jon knew the story behind Martin’s distaste for peaches by heart now, knew that Martin still refused to touch canned ones after having to live on them during Prentiss’ siege. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Martin waved his hand in an indistinct gesture. “’s not your fault.”

Jon opened his mouth before he realized what he intended to say, realized how Martin would react (how Martin had reacted already, time and time again) if he said it, swallowed his words for new ones. “It depends how you look at it, I suppose.”

“Well, it’s _my_ trauma we’re discussing, and _I_ say it’s not your fault, so there.” Martin had a strange sort of grin on his face as he added, “Besides, I didn’t actually have to eat them--I traded with someone who actually likes the things, think we both thought we were getting the better end of the deal.”

“Oh, that’s good at least.”

“Yeah. It’s nice to just... talk with people, bond in little ways like that.” Martin paused for a moment, biting his lip before hesitantly adding, “Didn’t have that the _last_ time I had to open up a tin of peaches...”

“I dare say a few things have changed since then.”

“A bit, yeah.” Martin extended a hand towards Jon, and Jon reached for it without thinking twice; Martin’s skin was cool and smooth. “God, to think that just a few years back Prentiss was the biggest thing on our radar... but it’s not that different from where we are now, really, is it?”

Jon stopped using his free hand to extract sardines from the tin (any slight semblance of hunger he’d had before was well sated already) and looked over at Martin. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Martin bit his lip again, humming to himself for a moment before resuming his train of thought. “It’s almost like we’re the, the peaches in that tin. Just stuck in there with nowhere to go, not rotting but not improving either, in some weird sort of stasis. And the peaches can’t break out of the tin, no matter how much they want to--someone has to break it open for them.”

The absurdity of the metaphor brought a smile to Jon’s face, and a hint of laughter sneaked into his voice as he replied. “I don’t think that’s your best metaphor there.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right on that one.” Martin said with a snort. “But it gets the point across, at least.”

“And what point would that be, exactly?”

“...well, we’re stuck here until Georgie and Melanie get back, aren’t we? Because if we try to leave, supernatural gobbledygook will get in the way. Like with Prentiss, all we can do is wait.”

The laughter left Jon’s voice as he watched Martin’s brow furl. “It’s not the same.”

“I mean, not exactly, no. I’m not alone this time, for one thing.” Martin squeezed Jon’s hand; Jon squeezed back, as tightly as he could, which wasn’t very. “But it works on a bigger scale, too. Everybody’s just sort of... waiting for the world to turn back, but not knowing if that’s even possible anymore. Just like I didn’t know if Prentiss would ever leave.”

“But she did.”

“But she did.” Martin echoed. “I’m still not entirely sure why, but she did.”

“I think she just...” Jon set the now-empty can of sardines on the ground, his eyes darting around the tunnel as he tried to think how to best word his response. “She had other things to attend to. The ritual, the Institute. One victim wasn’t worth that much of her time.”

“She got bored, basically, right?”

“Your words, not mine, but... yes.”

“She got bored of watching me squirm.” Jon had been mostly avoiding Martin’s gaze, but when his eyes happened to cross Martin’s path he saw that a weak but clear smile was building on his face, that his eyes seemed to shine even in the dim lighting of the tunnels. “She got tired of me, of waging a war that’d just end in an anticlimactic death at best. All she really wanted was to make sure I knew that she won, that she _could_ have done worse.”

Something clicked in Jon’s brain then. “...you’re not _just_ talking about Prentiss, are you?”

Martin shook his head, and the grin on his face just grew further. “Jonah Magnus won, sure, we all know it now, but- how much fun can it really be, watching it all up there? Maybe he’s bored. Maybe he’s ready for a change again, and he just needs us to talk him into it.”

“...somehow I doubt it’ll be that simple.”

“...yeah, probably not. But it is possible, at least. You don’t know--you don’t _Know_.”

“I don’t, no.” Though Jon didn’t share Martin’s optimism here, his smile was proving to be quite contagious. “I have no idea what he’s up to up there.”

“So you can’t say he’s _not_ regretting it all.” Martin let out a soft, not entirely discontented sigh. “It’s unlikely, sure, but... it’s nice to hope, at least, isn’t it?”

Jon nodded, though his own hope was rapidly dwindling as time went on, as their journey slowly but surely approached its conclusion. “Hope is better than nothing, I suppose.”

“Hope’s a _lot_ better than nothing. Without hope, what do we have left?”

Jon didn’t have an answer to that, and Martin didn’t elaborate, so the two sat in silence for a long moment, side by side and hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, consider following me on tumblr at [haberdashing](https://haberdashing.tumblr.com/)!


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